


Mate's Night

by tjs_whatnot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Infidelity, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjs_whatnot/pseuds/tjs_whatnot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew most husbands—especially the truly devoted kind, the dedicated lover kind—didn't go off once a week and take another to bed. She knew most wives—especially the exceptional clever kind, the confident and self-assured kind —didn't, on discovery of these tryst, do nothing to stop it.</p><p>But she and Ron had never been most people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mate's Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capitu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitu/gifts).



> For Blow Job Friday. Sad to see it go, glad I got to participate this one time.

Hermione knew it wasn't normal. But, when had that ever bothered her? When had they _ever_ been normal?

She knew most husbands—especially the truly devoted kind, the dedicated lover kind—didn't go off once a week and take another to bed. She knew most wives—especially the exceptional clever kind, the confident and self-assured kind —didn't, on discovery of these tryst, do nothing to stop it.

But she and Ron had never been most people. And Harry? Well there had never been anything they would deny him, even if they had wanted. And Harry wanted Ron. It didn't come to much of a surprise to Hermione that, in spite of being thoroughly happy in their marriage and with their family, Ron wanted Harry too. What did come to her as a huge surprise, was how much she wanted them to have each other; how much she needed them to need each other; how very much she needed to watch.

They called it "Mate's Night." Once a week or so, when they both had the same night off, had the same night free of obligations and responsibilities, they would get together, just the two of them. Hermione didn't ever question it, didn't ever resent it. They'd always, since they'd all been ickle firsties at Hogwarts gone off the two of them for adventures and she thought it was the same now. At first, she had no idea. 

Then a few years into the marriage, Ron had kissed her goodbye, promised to be home soon and Floo'd to Grimmauld Place. It was only an hour later when Hermione remembered something Molly had asked her to ask Ron. At the time, it had seemed important; important enough to Floo call to Harry's hoping they'd still be there.

She had thrown the powder into the fire, stuck her head in and was about to call out hello, when she saw something through the flames of the fire burning in Harry's fireplace that made her gasp instead. She covered her mouth, her eyes unable to tear away from what she was seeing, her mind racing. _How was this possible?_ She was convinced for a moment that she was seeing things through the haze of the flame that couldn't actually be real. Her husband couldn't _actually_ be laying on Harry's couch with Harry perched over him, kissing. Harry couldn't _actually_ be working the buttons of Ron's trousers, as Ron clutched Harry's jeans at the hip tightly, grinding into him. 

She froze, unable to move, unable to speak or slink away or do anything but stare.

They broke the kiss for a moment so that Harry could sit up and pull Ron's jumper over his head, but then they were back at it, kissing like their only air supply was the other's breath. She'd never seen Harry so content. She could understand; her husband was a magnificent kisser. She moaned at the thought of that tongue and what it could do. She clapped her hand over her mouth again, worried about being heard. 

Once she came to terms with the idea that she would not be leaving that fire, would not be interrupting the activities on the other side of the flames, she pulled out her wand and performed a wordless Silencio. She didn't give her own actions, her own odd mixture of feelings and emotions another thought. She was too busy watching, completely detached, completely removed.

They rolled off the couch as if weren't large enough to hold them and all they wanted to do to each other. They rolled on top of each other, over and over and Hermione was terrified for a moment that they would roll right into the fire, into her.

Of course they didn’t. They were aware of what they were doing, where they were, even then when their only thought seemed to be getting to a place that would let them stretch out and really explore each other.

Where they stopped, she almost laughed, but stopped herself just in time. _A front row seat_ she thought to herself, as she realized she could almost reach out and touch them. The idea of it was dizzying.

Again Harry was on top, he brought his knees up so that he was straddling Ron, still kissing him, a moan low in his throat— or maybe that was her. She could almost taste his desire, his need.

"Please, Harry," Ron whined, pulling at Harry's shirt, his jeans. "I want to feel you too."

Harry sat up and pulled off his shirt. Ron reached up and ran his hand up Harry's arms, his shoulder, rubbed his thumb against Harry's adam's apple. Ron tugged at Harry's jeans, but Harry pushed his hands away. "Later."

Instead of going back to Ron's mouth, Harry attacked Ron's throat, sucking painfully by the look on Ron's face; pain and desire flashed simultaneously. While Harry worked his mouth, tongue and teeth down Ron's body, Ron grasped desperately at Harry's still clothed arse, pulling his crotch hard against his own.

"Please, Harry," Ron whined again. "I need you."

Hermione was flushed hot and she knew it had nothing to do with the flames of the fire. She knew this because the part of her that was the hottest was not even close to the flame. She peeled her fingers from where they were still clamped at her mouth and moved them down under the fabric of her skirt, under the fabric of her panties and to her already wet cunt.

"Need me?" Harry asked, teasing. "Need me to what?"

Ron growled and pushed Harry's head that was working its tongue around Ron's nipple down to his cock. "Need you to fuck me. Fuck me with that beautiful mouth of yours."

Hermione whined as she spread her lips with her needy fingers. _Oh gods_ , she breathed, closing her eyes for a moment as she flicked her middle finger against her clit. _What is happening?_

She opened her eyes and saw Harry look at Ron from his position at Ron's cock. He looked so content, so very smitten and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Ron had done that to him, had given that to him. She was oddly prouder of her husband than she had been in a long while.

"Fuck me," Ron whispered, and it wasn't an order, it was a plea. 

Harry finally obliged, and as Harry wetted the tip of Ron's cock with his tongue, sucking it with his mouth, Hermione worked two fingers inside herself. She and Ron moaned together.

For a moment, Hermione was so fascinated about her best mate's mouth working her husband's cock into his mouth and down his throat that she couldn't look anywhere else. Then she realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to study her husband's body while he was being pleasured. She'd obviously never had this view before, being more familiar with Harry's view. 

Ron had one hand around the back of Harry's head, not pushing, just caressing. The other was balled in a fist around the rug they were laying on. He had his knees bent and his toes curled into the carpet and she could tell by the way he was biting his lip that it was taking everything in him not to pump his hips, drive his cock deeper and faster down Harry's throat.

Hermione bit her lip too, matching her fingers strokes against the walls of her cunt with Harry's around Ron's cock. She started to feel light headed and began to see stars in her vision and prayed she didn't come before Ron; she didn't want to miss anything in her own euphoria. 

But then Harry took his hands from where they had been kneeding into Ron's arse cheeks and took Ron's balls in his hands and squeezed and instantly, Ron screamed out in a pant and came into Harry's mouth. Hermione took that opportunity to close her eyes and ride into her own orgasm in a gasp.

When she opened her eyes, her breath still erratic, she panicked. Ron was looking into the flames of the fire. Her eyes widened and she waited for him to shout out. But he didn't. She realized after he moved his face back to Harry, as Harry sat up and hovered over him, that his eyes must have been too glazed with satisfaction to see anything through the flames. 

She pulled her head out of the fire anyway, just to be sure. Now that she was out, now that she had time to think about things and not just experience them, her mind raced. How did this happen? How long have they been doing this? And the part she really couldn't wrap her mind around, how did it _start_? How did they take their feelings – feelings that they had maybe always had and always denied and let them loose?

Not once in her wonderings did she wonder if this meant that Ron loved her less, if Ron was getting things from Harry that she herself wasn't giving him. It never even crossed her mind that Ron denied her anything because of Harry.

In fact, in some strange way, it made her love him more.

Of course, she wasn't too keen on the lying, but over the years that passed from that first discovery, she reasoned that every time she... um... snuck a peek in the fire – and she'd never admit just how often that happened— she wasn't exactly telling him everything either. And she also reasoned that if she ever was to flat out ask him about his and Harry's relationship, he'd tell her everything anyway.

She just never asked.


End file.
